


An Unexpected Punishment

by flibbertygigget



Series: An Unexpected Universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Dudley Dursley was not happy.Or: Unstoppable Force, meet Immovable Object





	1. Dudley

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Une punition inattendue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170373) by [Matteic_FR (Matteic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matteic/pseuds/Matteic_FR)



Dudley Dursley was not happy.

First, he and Mummy had to be on a train all night just because Daddy wanted to punish his cousin, Harry. There were so many suitcases and backpacks that even Dudley had to carry his backpack. And the backpack wasn’t even filled with _toys_ or _snacks_ , just boring stuff like _clothes._ Dudley didn’t get why they needed to have so much boring stuff when the longest they’d ever holidayed was a week in Brighton by the sea.

Then, they’d gone to a stupid house where everything was bad. The man that was there only gave him two eggs and no juice. There hadn’t been a telly for him to watch his show before he went to bed. There’d only been one bedroom, so Dudley had to share with Mummy. He’d almost had to share with Harry, too, which was _worse_ , but then he’d threatened to have a fit and Mummy made Harry go sleep on the couch.

Dudley had tried to throw a fit about the telly and the juice, but Mummy had told him that he had to be quiet or he’d wake up Mr. Snape, and if Dudley stayed quiet like a good boy she’d take him to a film and let him have a whole soda and whole bag of popcorn all to himself. Dudley said that he wanted some sweets, too, and Mummy said yes, so Dudley had had to be quiet all night. On a normal night, he would sneak downstairs and watch the telly with Daddy, but since there was no telly and no Daddy there didn’t seem to be much of a point.

Finally, worst of all, Dudley had woken up and went down the thin stairs to find that Mr. Snape and Harry were already up and _eating without him_.

“MUMMY!” Dudley yelled. “HARRY’S STEALING!” Harry jumped up from the chair, which was the only one again, and bolted to hide behind Mr. Snape. Mr. Snape stopped stirring the spaghetti and looked at Dudley like Dudley wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Be quiet, Mr. Dursley,” he said in a voice that sounded like it wanted to be snappish. “If I’m not mistaken, your mother is still asleep. We wouldn’t want to wake her before we have to.” Dudley ignored him.

“MUMMY!” he yelled up the stairs.

“Quiet!” Mr. Snape said, really snapping now, just as Mummy ran down the stairs in her dressing gown.

“Duddikins, what’s wrong?” she said.

“Harry’s stealing food,” Dudley said triumphantly. Now that Mummy was here, she’d put things right herself or call Daddy to do so. “He’s not supposed to eat before the family. You _said_.” Mummy looked like she was about to say something, but then she stopped short, glancing at Mr. Snape nervously. Mr. Snape was glaring at her.

“Well, Duddy,” she said, sounding very uncertain, “today isn’t – isn’t like most other days, you know. I think we can allow Harry to eat without the family just this once, as long as Snape allowed him to.” Dudley stomped his foot.

“But it’s not _right_ ,” he said. Mummy was starting to turn pink, and Dudley knew that it was working. Mummy always did what Dudley wanted when he threw fits in front of people. “Harry’s _stealing_.”

“Mr. Potter is not stealing,” Mr. Snape cut in, “seeing as its my food I am preparing in my kitchen for his consumption.” Dudley didn’t get what Mr. Snape was saying exactly, but he understood enough to know that Mr. Snape wasn’t following the rules at all.

“BUT I WANT MY SPAGHETTI!” Dudley screamed. Mr. Snape drew out the stupid stick sharpish, and Mummy gave a frightened gasp. He ignored her, waving it at the table and making three more chairs appear, just like he had last night.

“Sit down, Mr. Dursley,” he snapped. “Lunch will be ready soon enough.” Dudley wanted to argue until he got his way, but Mummy was there, herding him into one of the chairs.

“Just do like he says, Duddikins,” she whispered. “I know he doesn’t understand what a good boy you are, but he’s in charge just like your nasty teacher is at school. Just sit and show him what a good boy you are.”

“Oh, I think I’ve seen plenty,” Mr. Snape said snidely. He was glaring at Mummy again.

“And what would you know about it? You’re hardly a father.”

“No, but I am in charge of damn near a hundred of the little blighters as their Head of House,” Mr. Snape said, “and believe me, I can tell when one of them has been spoiled rotten.”

“I will raise _my_ child as I see fit,” Mummy said, her voice going shrill.

“Children,” Mr. Snape said dangerously. Dudley noticed that Harry hadn’t let go of Mr. Snape’s leg yet, but Mr. Snape didn’t seem to mind. “You are raising children.”

“Yes. Of course.” But Mummy was pinker than ever. Mr. Snape took down four plates and dished out the spaghetti.

“There,” he said, putting them on the table. Then he turned to Harry. “Go on. Sit down.” Harry did so, eating the spaghetti as quickly as he could. Dudley looked down at his portion angrily.

“It’s too small,” he whined. Mummy glanced over at Mr. Snape.

“You can always have seconds,” he said flatly. Dudley glared at him.

“I always get seconds anyways. It’s too small.” Mr. Snape’s lip’s thinned, but he took a bite without comment. “Didn’t you hear me? I _said_ it’s too small!”

“Oh, I heard you,” Mr. Snape said, “and my answer remains the same. Eat what’s on your plate, and then you may ask for seconds.” Dudley felt Mummy shift beside him, but he was done listening to stupid Mr. Snape and his stupid rule breaking.

“I WANT MORE!” Dudley yelled. He jumped up and threw his chair on the ground, where it disappeared in a poof of magic. “ARE YOU A DUMMY? ARE YOU DEAF? I SAID THAT I WANTED MORE!” Mr. Snape didn’t even move.

“Mr. Dursley, what you have is what you’re getting. Now eat your lunch and stop acting like an impossible brat.” Dudley threw himself on the floor and began beating it with his fists.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE MEANEST PERSON EVER!”

“NO, HE’S NOT!” Dudley was so surprised to hear Harry yell like that that he actually stopped screaming for a moment. Harry was standing too, shaking with rage. Mummy wasn’t even telling him off, just sitting like an especially red statue and refusing to meet Dudley’s eyes.

“Mr. Potter, finish your food,” Mr. Snape said. Harry sat, still trembling a little and shooting Mr. Snape nervous looks. “Mr. Dursley-“

“Aren’t you gonna punish him?” Dudley said, sitting up on the floor. “Why’re you punishing me and not him?”

“I’m not bloody punishing you, I am attempting to feed you. Now, you have two options: eat or don’t eat. I don’t particularly care which you choose, but either way you must cease this ridiculous spectacle at once and _sit down_.” Dudley got to his feet, but he didn’t do what Mr. Snape told him to.

“I hate you,” Dudley said, working himself up to a real fit again. “I HATE YOU! YOU’RE A FREAK!” Dudley took up the stupid too-small plate of spaghetti and chucked it at Mr. Snape. Mr. Snape dodged, ignoring the crash as it broke.

“Dursley,” he growled. Dudley threw himself at that awful man, railing on him with his fists as hard as he could.

“I HATE YOU! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK!” Mr. Snape caught Dudley’s wrists. For a moment it felt like he might bruise them. Dudley looked up into Mr. Snape’s eyes to find that they were horribly dark and dangerous.

“Do not,” Mr. Snape said, iron voice enunciating every word, “strike people or call them names.” He dropped Dudley’s wrists then and stepped back, looking almost afraid. “Go to your room. Now.” Then he swept past Dudley, out the back door. Harry jumped up and ran after him, not even asking Mummy for permission to leave.

“Mummy, why’d he-“ Dudley started to whine. Mummy jumped a little, looking at him in the eyes for the first time in a while.

“Do as he says, Dudley,” she said. Not Dudders. Not Duddikins. Just Dudley, like she was some teacher or stranger, not _his_ Mummy.

“But-“

“Just do as he says!” Dudley ran upstairs and threw himself on the bed he’d shared with Mummy, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t understand how the world could have gotten so horrible in just one day.


	2. Harry

Harry ran out after Mr. Snape, heart in his throat, the brief delight he’d felt at seeing _Dudley_ get punished instead of him draining away. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. Mr. Snape was upset, and Harry wanted to fix it.

Mr. Snape was standing on the back steps, just standing there and looking out at the tiny patch of dirt that could barely be called a back garden. For a moment Harry was distracted, because the plants weren’t like any he’d watered for Aunt Petunia. They were thin and scraggly, with tiny flowers that looked as though they were struggling to open, and Harry wondered whether Mr. Snape would let him help with them.

Then Mr. Snape was moving, fumbling a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lighting one, his hand shaking. He took a deep drag and held it in a moment before breathing the smoke out over the tiny garden. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look happy. Harry stood in the doorway, frozen. He didn’t know what to do.

“Mr. Snape?” he said in a small, careful voice. Mr. Snape jumped a little, glancing over at Harry in surprise. He took another pull of his cigarette.

“Harry,” Mr. Snape said at last, sounding a little lost. Harry crept forward to stand beside him. “Are you alright?”

“What?” Harry said. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Mr. Snape shook his head a little, concentrating on garden. “Um, I’m sorry for-“

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Mr. Snape’s voice was scary now, hard and brittle all at the same time. Harry didn’t know what to do, so he sat on the steps, kicking at the dirt. After a moment, Mr. Snape sat down next to him. “I should be the one apologizing.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Suddenly Harry felt a little sick. “Do you like Dudley better than me?”

“No,” Mr. Snape said, but he still sounded upset.

“Good,” Harry said. “Because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia already like him better than me. I’d like to have you like me better.”

“Petunia and Dursley shouldn’t have mistreated you in the first place,” Mr. Snape said. “And that’s not what I had to apologize for.” Harry looked up at him curiously. Mr. Snape dropped the butt of his cigarette and ground it into the dirt. He sighed. “Harry, when your cousin was… misbehaving… I came very close to losing my temper. No, I _did_ lose my temper. I – corrected him physically, too physically.”

“What do you mean?” Harry said. “You didn’t even hit him. And he was being really mean. If I’d acted like that to Uncle Vernon-“ Harry broke off and shivered. He didn’t want to think about being walloped or locked in a closet or any of the things that Uncle Vernon would’ve done to him if he’d dared to talk back to him like Dudley had talked back to Mr. Snape. And all Mr. Snape had done was made Dudley shut up and ordered him upstairs. “You didn’t do anything bad to him.”

“The way that your Uncle would have reacted was unacceptable,” Mr. Snape said, voice snapping, “and I don’t intend on following in _his_ footsteps. I just-“ He ran a hand over his face. “I was not in complete control of my actions. I do not know how to – interact with children your age, and I don’t have the instinct or the example to do it well.”

“I think you’re great,” Harry said. “You’re much better than Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia or – or anyone I’ve ever met!” Mr. Snape sighed again, shaking his head sadly. Then he stood and turned back toward the door.

“I will bring your cousin his lunch and explain a few things,” he said decidedly to himself, and then he turned to Harry. “And after that we’ll… we’ll figure it out. Take the two of you to the playground, maybe.”

“Okay!” Harry said. “Can you push me on the swings?” Mr. Snape smiled, actually smiled for the first time since Harry had met him.

“Yes,” he said. “That sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit shorter, but the next and final chapter will be longer and from Snape's POV :)


	3. Severus

Severus hesitated when he came to the entrance of the kitchen. Petunia Dursley was still there, sitting in her chair like a particularly prim statue. He wanted to yell at her, about parents and duty and Merlin knew what else would come out of his mouth, but he couldn’t find the energy. Something about the fight with the Dursley boy had drained him, and now Severus was left with broken pieces of ceramic on the floor and bright red sauce painting the wall.

He lifted the pieces of the plate and melded them back together with a _Reparo_. He went over to the pot of spaghetti that was congealing on the stovetop. Quick warming charm, then one scoop onto the plate. _Aguamenti_ , poke the kettle to boil. He needed a cup of tea – not for the caffeine, not really, but for a few more minutes to think before going upstairs to confront the little devil.

Severus had no bloody idea what he was doing.

Dudley Dursley wasn’t his responsibility. _None_ of them were his responsibility, not really, except insofar as he had a duty to protect Potter for Lily’s sake. But Petunia and her bloody husband were obviously not satisfactory caregivers, what with spoiling one child in their care and, well, doing whatever they did with Potter to the other.

Severus had always forced his mind away from the word “abuse,” which reminded him too much of sweltering summers and ill-fitting clothing and Lily seeing… No, it was better for him not to think about the word “abuse.” A firm hand had never hurt anyone, after all. Still, the magnitude of the difference in the treatment of the two boys, the sheer inequity of their experiences showed him that there was something rotten in the state of Denmark, or at least in the Dursley household.

Petunia should not have used her pet term, “freak,” to refer to Potter, of that he was certain. Severus sipped his tea, watching the woman out of the corner of his eye. His own father had hated magic, of course, but then he had never thought that his son would be a wizard. Petunia, on the other hand, had grown up with a witch for a sister. Even if she had never exactly planned on raising her nephew, she would have had more than enough time to get used to the idea before the boy was due to show his first signs of magical ability. That she had instead doubled down on her schoolyard taunts, well, it seemed to indicate that she held out hope of stamping out his magic – and that, to Severus, was worse than almost anything else she could have done to the boy.

As for Dudley Dursley, he was as spoiled as the worst of his Slytherins. The idea of being so spoiled was, admittedly, almost completely foreign to Severus. _He_ certainly would never have complained about the generous portion of spaghetti he’d given the five-year-old, especially since he had assured the boy that more food was available. But since his usual method of taking points for being a whiny brat and fobbing the rest off on his prefects wouldn’t work, it seemed that Severus would have to actually (he shuddered) _talk_ to the boy, even though he wasn’t the boy’s bloody father and shouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place.

Severus took a large gulp of his tea. Minerva, he needed to talk to Minerva. Though her experience with five-year-olds was limited to say the least, she still had twenty-five years of teaching experience on him, and the fact that they often had tea together even during the summer meant that she would likely be his most immediate resource. He drained the rest of his mug, finally feeling confident that, even if he bungled the whole conversation with the Dursley boy tremendously, he would soon be set right by the Transfiguration Professor. He didn’t know exactly what he would say, but his goal was, at last, clear. Make it clear to Dursley that his tantrum was unacceptable, while also assuring the boy that he wouldn’t stoop to the kind of physical correction that had been outlawed from Hogwarts since the mid-sixties.

Severus put the mug in his overflowing sink and picked up the steaming plate of spaghetti, intent on ignoring Petunia. A confrontation on her dubious choices as a parent could wait. But as he walked past her, she stirred, looking him in the eye for the first time since Dursley’s tantrum.

“Snape, about my Dudders…” She bit her lip.

“Yes?”

“Don’t – Don’t be too hard on him. He’s such a _little_ boy.”

“So is your bloody nephew,” Severus said, “but I don’t see you running to defend him from his cousin’s accusations.”

“Children need rules, boundaries-“

“Don’t, Petunia. Don’t make excuses for yourself and your husband. If you’ve done half of what I think you’ve done…” Severus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He didn’t know what the devil had come over him, only that he had suddenly begun shaking with fury. “Just be glad that the Ministry still demands I submit to periodic _Priori Incantatum_. I’m starting to think that’s the only thing keeping me from hitting you with more than a few barbed words.”

“Snape-“

“Shut up!” he barked. He closed his eyes, employing Occlumency this time. “Just shut up, Petunia. You’ll do your son no favors if you persist in pissing me off.” She shrunk back in her chair. Severus pretty much bolted past her, intent on getting out of the room before he lost control of his emotions _again_. He paused outside the door of his parents’ old bedroom. Should he knock, or simply walk in? Was he making a huge mistake in chastening Dursley when the boy was even less his responsibility than Potter?

He knocked. The boy deserved that much respect.

“Mummy?”

“No, it’s me.” Severus opened the door. Dursley was lying on the bed. When he heard the door, he looked up at Severus with tear-streaked cheeks. His chubbiness and round, guileless eyes brought to mind a particularly pathetic baby seal.

“Whudda you want?” he said.

“I came to discuss your behavior downstairs,” Severus said, “as well as issue an apology.” Dursley rubbed his eyes.

“For not following the rules?” he said. Severus shook his head.

“No. I had no knowledge of any rules that might have been in place, and even if I did I wouldn’t be bound by them. No, I have to apologize because I did lose my temper. I was not fully in control of my actions, and for that I am sorry. However, your behavior today at lunch was completely unacceptable for multiple reasons.” This second bit was far easier than the first. “You were sent to your room because you complained about lunch, threw a fit that included both yelling and name-calling, and topped it all off with hitting me. All three of those things were very rude.”

“Why’s it so rude?” Dursley said. Severus closed his eyes, forcing himself not to give a groan of despair. It seemed that, somehow, Petunia had turned a five-year-old near-feral.

“Yelling is undignified and does nothing for whatever position you’re trying to convey, name-calling is both hurtful and childish, and hitting people when you don’t get your way is bullying, plain and simple. As for complaining about your portion at lunch, that was simply ungrateful. When at the table, you should eat what you can, ask for seconds if necessary, and thank your host when you’re finished. No complaining about what is being served. No whining about the amount you get.”

“But-“ Severus glared, and the Dursley boy cut himself off.

“But nothing. Those are the rules, and I expect both you and Potter to follow them.” Dursley nodded miserably. “Now, tell me what the rules are.”

“No yelling. No name-calling. No hitting. No complaining about lunch.” Severus nodded stiffly.

“Good,” he said, relaxing. It seemed that he had managed not to completely bugger it up. He pushed the plate over to Dursley. “Here. Eat, and then I can take you and Potter to the park.” Dursley snatched the plate up, but he didn’t eat right away.

“Why’re you letting me eat?” he said.

“What?”

“I made you really mad, and you’re not Mummy or Daddy. Why’re you letting me eat?”

“Because food isn’t bloody optional,” Severus said. “You need it to live.” He paused. “New rule: _I’m_ not allowed to withhold meals as punishment.” Dursley nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “For Harry too?”

“All rules apply to both you and Mr. Potter.” Dursley nodded again and began eating. He finished quickly, helped along by his quite frankly atrocious table manners.

“Park now?” he said, grinning through the spaghetti sauce. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, but to his surprise he wasn’t staving off as large a headache as he had expected.

“Change into clothes and wipe your face first,” he said. “Then we can go to the park.”


End file.
